


inevitable

by roboticake



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Feelings, M/M, not a bad ending though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 19:31:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9339911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roboticake/pseuds/roboticake
Summary: Years aren't kind to soldiers.-For Reaper76 Week. Day 1 - History/Decay.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It's probably irrelevant and I probably failed to follow the prompt. But my brain just decided to focus on the word "decay", urgh.
> 
> Short because I lack time writing. Sorry ;A;

 

 

Standing in front of the sole mirror of his shack, scratched with time, Jack Morrison, naked in his bathroom, stares. He stares at the scars of his forehead; at his protuberant ribs under stretched skin; at the gash on his side that never properly healed. He studies each one of his scars intently, lets his fingers trace them gingerly. They still hurt, a prickling sensation more engraved in his mind than real.

Years weren’t kind to him, Jack muses as he passes a hand on his face, screwing his eyes shut. Without his mask or his armored vest, he feels frail, almost fragile, too easy to break. His hair, graying with age and worry, frames a too weary face, partially hides dulled blue eyes.

Jack tries to salute, like he used to, back when he was a commander; _the_ commander. He lets out a humorless laugh. Broken. Empty.

It’s ridiculous.

Sometimes, Jack’s determination waver. He tries to stand with his chin high and shoulder the weight of his never-ending duty with pride, but his body is failing him. He lacks the naïveté of his younger self, and it makes him bitter and rough and harsh. He doesn't call himself a pessimist, though. He prefers the term ' _realist_ '.

Biting his lower lip, Jack can't help wanting to go back to simpler times. Back then, when he could stare at a challenge and grin; bold, young and reckless.

Jack chokes down a sob. There is so much to do and so little time. He feels thrown into a rising tide; tumultuous and too fast and rendering him helpless and pleading for respite.

In anger and frustration, his fist strikes the mirror. It breaks under the blow, cracks and falls in a heap of bloodied shards; and Jack wants to laugh at how it mirrors him even in the way it breaks. Is it how he is? Easy to break, bloody, and used by time?

“Jack,” says a sharp voice.

Jack whirls back, unashamed to be naked. He already knows who is it.

He sighs, wipes his eyes with the back of his bruised hand. It smears blood on his eyelids, on his cheeks like a war paint, but he doesn’t care. He steps out of the ruined bathroom, toes curling on cold tiles. He carefully walks towards the man in front of him.

Gabriel Reyes.

Time damaged Gabriel, in the same way it damaged Jack. Some scars adorn his face and his naked chest. His shoulders are slumped down with weariness. His eyes, now red and usually so sinister, barely frighten Jack anymore. Under the light of the setting sun, the dark curls of his hair contrast with silver strands.

“Jack,” Gabriel repeats, this time gentler. Black smoke escapes his lips.

Jack blinks. He takes a couple of steps towards Gabriel, and wraps him arms around him. Gabriel snorts, but hugs back, his embrace strong and firm.

Blue eyes still shiny with tears and sight always a little bit blurry, Jack can still notice the specks of warm brown under the ruby red of Gabriel’s irises. He smiles. The other man rolls his eyes, fond.

“What is it?” Gabriel asks. One of his hand reaches up and traces the scars of Jack’s forehead delicately, while the other one brushes the gash of his side. Jack leans into the gentle touch. It isn't uncomfortable. The skin there never prickles when it's Gabriel.

“I’m tired of this,” Jack replies, moving his head so his chin rests on Gabriel’s shoulder. “I’m tired of running. I…”

Gabriel hums. He pats Jack’s head, comforting him.

“I know, Jackie, I know,” he breathes out. “But it’ll stop, one day.”

“We both know Talon will never stop searching for us,” Jack says. The blood on his face, on his hand, leaves reddish marks on Gabriel’s skin. “They’ll find us.”

Gabriel stops his movement for a split-second, and his fingers grip, for a moment, a little bit tighter Jack’s waist.

“And we'll know how to welcome them,” he assures, finally, a new edge in his voice making it harsher. “But for now…”

For now, they could cling to each other in a desperate embrace. They could drop both vigilante and fugitive masks; they could be as vulnerable as they want. They could be themselves, broken and twisted by time, jaded with responsibilities. They could let themselves be human, let themselves love and be loved.

And when the inevitable comes, both Jack and Gabriel will be ready to greet it.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://www.roboticake.tumblr.com) & [twitter](https://twitter.com/roboticake)  
> 


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